


sweet and sour

by tenderwrites



Series: #stzweek [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #stzweek, Drunken Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:39:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderwrites/pseuds/tenderwrites
Summary: #stzweek day 3 - au/crossoverHayato and Eita are both the proud baristas of White Eagle Café, an establishment nestled comfortably in the Kurokawa District of Miyagi Prefecture that opens it doors to customers of all walks of life. The café's motto is to extend kindness to the needy, on whatever spectrum that they may be on.On a winter-decorated day, barrels of snow seal the both of them in, and amidst the chaos of it all, they meet Kenjirou Shirabu, a rather flustered college student that seems to be enamored with Eita. As one of his closest friends, Hayato seeks to bring the two of them together, but the path to making them a couple is laced with setbacks and banter between equally hot-headed people.Can he live up to his personal standards as Eita's wing man or will he have to leave it to Satori to handle the both of their tempers?





	sweet and sour

**Author's Note:**

> While attempting to write this fic, I couldn't find the motivation or words to type out anything. So, I settled for re-watching Studio Ghibli movies, because they are my absolute favorites. I started with Spirited Away, and marveled at the art and cinematics of it, but then I watched Kiki's Delivery Service and found out why writer's block/art block existed. 
> 
> The movie says that writing and drawing is like flying; sometimes you lose the ability to write or draw anything at all, and it is during these moments that you have to stop and take some time for yourself, whether it be in the form of Ghibli movies or just doing something you enjoy. I was doing just that, and gradually found myself relaxing and getting my inspiration back.
> 
> So, if you're experiencing any kind of block in doing something you love, just do something else you enjoy. It'll all come back to you sooner or later. There's no rush in doing these things after all. 
> 
> Anyway, here's day 3's long overdue fic! I wanted to see if I could write a Coffee Shop AU where Hayato, who is a direct spectator to two pining people, wants to be the ultimate wing man and bring the both of them together. 
> 
> (Hayato has so much potential both in fics and art, so it makes me sad to see him going underappreciated. I believe I hold the same opinion for every underrated character in Shiratorizawa.)

_#stzweek day 3 - crossover/au_

Concentration, focus and determination.

All of these three things was what Hayato figured he needed in order to complete this Herculean task, and as he holds the instrument required for it, his arms shudder in lieu of the delicate operation. If he doesn’t get it right for the hundredth time that day, there would most likely be a murderous presence after his flesh and blood and as he tries to ignore the daunting aura emanating from behind him, he focuses on the seemingly harmless mug of latte sitting in front of him, waiting to be decorated with either Rembrandt or Munch.

The cup of steamed milk rests in between his fingers, and with newfound motivation, he starts to pour it over the fragrant, brown surface of the espresso. With practiced movements, the outline of a wobbly flower soon appears, and even though it could only pass off as acceptable in the eyes of critics, Hayato gives a triumphant whoop, his arms nearly knocking his piece of art off the table. He looks towards the resident latte artist of White Eagle Café with a proud smile stretched across his face and as soon as Eita sighs and gives an approving nod, he throws the maroon apron over his head and onto the counter with a violent swing of his arm.

The taller of the two scoffs and rolls his eyes at this dramatic show of aggression, but gives a satisfied smile anyway. Over the course of just a week, the two of them had stayed behind to train the brunette on the basics of latte art and just what it meant to face the fury of Eita Semi, a seasoned barista whose temper was to be feared and devilish smiles to be wary of even more.

Alright, maybe he was exaggerating it a little. Eita was one of Hayato’s good friends and all he did when he messed up was to let out a sigh of exasperation or knead his temples in frustration, and he was a pretty good teacher when it came to teaching newbies about what expertise it took to brew a standard cup of coffee. Eita was a godsend when it came to managing the café; even though White Eagle wasn’t even his, he could breeze through the day consistently. Any kind of problem related to the cash register or that _damned_ brewing machine would be solved after a few quick moments with Eita’s nimble fingers. _Honestly_ , Hayato thinks to himself as he waits for the ash blonde to pack up his things, _I’m surprised that Ridiculous Hair doesn’t have a ton of admirers going after his ass._

He reaches for the fresh cup of coffee that was successfully made after long hours of failed attempts and emotional drama and sips on the warm beverage gratefully, thinking of the improvement that he had made over a mere fortnight. Hayato feels a twinge of pride overtake his heart and as a small smile makes its way onto his face, he does not notice a lone well-dressed individual charge under the respite of their storefront, the creases of a frown pulling their face towards the soaked ground. In the ambient shelter of the coffee shop, there are the typical items sold in any café: varying types of coffee that could satisfy any hipster’s wants, fresh bread and breakfast sets, but it is something intangible that makes White Eagle what it truly is.

The spirit of kindness, which is what Jin had told all of them working there.

Watching Eita come out of the staff room dressed in casual attire, Hayato downs the last of his latte and prepares to leave together with him, but then his friend stops in his tracks and the shorter of the two nearly crashes into a nearby table. The phone in the brunette’s hand slips out of his hand and clatters to the floor with a painful slam, and he winces and fears for his phone’s lifespan.

“Eita, what--” The brunette finally catches sight of the man standing in front of the store and composes himself from the shock of the sudden turn of events. “Do you think we should invite him in?”

The ash blonde peers at the neon numbers illuminated on his phone screen and squeezes his lips shut at having his day interrupted yet again. Nevertheless, he walks towards the entrance and pulls the door open, a jolt of cold air piercing through the café.

“Hey there, do you need anything?” From his spot by the table, Hayato gives a great big yawn and scrolls through his newly damaged phone mindlessly. The man shivering by the entrance of White Eagle turns towards the friendly looking café owner and his face blooms with a blush of mortification, and he immediately steps away from his previous patronizing position.

“Sorry, I just--I don’t really have an umbrella with me, so I decided to just wait out the snowstorm.” The stranger gestures towards the torrent of snow cascading from the heavens and Eita’s smile increases with more understanding. The barista makes way for him and gestures for him to come inside, but the stranger’s wide and unsure eyes makes him somewhat nervous at the same time.

“It’s fine. Just take it that you’re buying a cup of coffee during working hours.” Eita reassures again, and as the stranger glances at Hayato, he too raises a thumbs up and gives a warm smile to welcome the new addition in. By emotional obligation, he can do nothing but to make himself at home in the welcoming place of White Eagle Café.

“Thanks for inviting me in.” The stranger sets his book bag down by one of the tables by the counter and pulls out one of the small menus, eyes grazing over the section of caffeinated options available. There is a cozy-looking jacket resting on the man’s shoulders and there is a thick pair of glasses resting on his nose, and Hayato thinks that he looks like one of those mainstream Korean pop band members whose music he often hears through the radio during shifts. He isn’t one to judge by appearance though, so he looks past his seemingly narcissistic features and socializes the best way he can.

“Hey! I’m Hayato Yamagata and this is my friend Eita Semi. What’s your name?”

“Kenjirou Shirabu.” Kenjirou’s eyes follow Eita as he ducks behind the counter to tie his apron back on and switches the brewing machine back on, all while scanning the menu for something warm to drink. Behind the flashing images and junkie colors on Hayato’s phone screen, he watches the both of them with piqued interest and suddenly comes to the realization that Eita, his hot-headed and scarily entertaining friend, is now holding the brunette’s gaze with a ferocity in his eyes.

 _Now this is getting interesting,_ he muses, the tension in the café steadily rising. It isn’t a suffocating kind of tension; rather, Hayato can almost taste the retaliation and stark seduction that he feels is way too cliché for the three of them sitting inside a coffee shop, the outside weather slowly turning for the worse.

The brunette walks up to the counter with his menu long forgotten at the table, tongue brushing over his upper lip to wet it. Being a spectator to this amusing scene, the newly-fledged barista slowly lowers his phone to stare at the two of them, as if he is in a movie theater waiting for the comedy to start.

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato, please.” The deliberate lilting tone that Kenjirou carries in his voice tickles the tip of Eita’s ears and the smile that he had so graciously placed there for respect’s sake drifts into a slight frown, and something tells Hayato that this just isn’t a simple exchange between barista and customer. He almost wants to bolt out of the door due to the excitement, but the freezing cold temperature is enough to root himself to his chair.

“...Coming right up.” With deft movements, Eita sets to work and follows a routine that is way too overrated in Hayato’s opinion. He isn’t a big fan of sweets himself, so what was the rage about caramel all about, anyway? At the very least, he could appreciate the art of making coffee, especially if it was brewed by the best barista in White Eagle.

_If only Satori were here to see this. He’d be cackling like some old woman with a sore throat._

Compared to Hayato, the small jug of hot milk fits snug in Eita’s fingers and with an air of exuberance, he pours it over the cup as he always does. To some common people, it might look incredibly easy to accomplish, but Hayato knows better. His friend has spent years of his life honing his craft of latte art and even then, is still bent on making it _perfect_.

This streak of stubborness never ceases to amaze him. He imagines his own mother’s voice in his head now, telling him that he should be more like his hard-working friend with the dyed tips.

_It’s Eita Semi, mom. And yes, his hair does look ridiculous._

The cup of macchiato is set down in front of Kenjirou and as the brunette looks up at Eita with barely concealed shock and flushed cheeks from the cold, the taller of the two feels some accomplishment welling in his heart.

“Go on. Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it!” The ash blonde grins, a set of pearly whites peeking out from behind pink lips. In favour of giving no response, the more well-dressed of the two gazes down at the beautiful artwork in front of him carefully, as if his rigid stare will break the petals of the flower sitting daintily inside the drink. A few fingers reach out to caress the side of the cup’s handle and Kenjirou brings it to his lips, sipping on it gingerly. Then, as if overcome by some energy, the warm coffee is emptied out in a flash, and Eita looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know who brewed this coffee?” He turns towards Hayato and asks the obvious question, but the smirk on his face tells him plenty.

“I dunno, man. Did you see anyone behind the counter?” In that short frame of time, he stands at Kenjirou’s side and Eita stands by the two of them, resolute hands on his hips and a disbelieving expression splayed across his face.

“The two of you are unbelievable.” Hayato lets out a breathy laugh at Eita, offering a low five to Kenjirou who accepts it hesitatingly. With the emotional obligation of ushering him in from the snow now over, Eita stretches out his hands and lets out a yawn, setting his own apron down on the counter and settling for leaning against it with his arms crossed.

“So, Shirabu, what brings you here to this district? We haven’t seen you around all that much.” Going home is now a far afterthought in the back of Hayato’s mind, as he would much rather prefer being the third wheel to the conversation flowing between Eita and Kenjirou. He was, after all, snowed in like the two of them, and the café was warm enough to fall asleep in. Giving up on the notion of heading home to enjoy a delicious bowl of ramen, he lies down on the table with his cheek firmly pressed to it, watching as his two friends establish a rapport filled with banter and borderline insults.

And then it hit him.

_I’m surprised that Ridiculous Hair doesn’t have a ton of admirers going after his ass._

Springing up from his relaxed position at the table, he narrows his eyes at Kenjirou a little more closely, pushing the limits of what could be called privacy. Wasn’t this just like one of Satori’s shoujo manga series? Sure, he found it bizarre that his red-haired cryptid of a friend would even open one of those childish series, but that was exactly what had happened in one of the dog-eared pages that Satori had shoved in his face the other day.

Fond-looking eyes and flushed cheeks, was what made up the equation of the body language shown in Eita and Kenjirou’s conversation, with a little further observation on Hayato’s part. Snapping his fingers mentally, he draws his lips into a determined smile, eager to get to work as soon as possible. Glancing towards the big glass window engraved with their café’s name and working hours, the white blanket of snow covering at least a few feet of the ground poses as an eyesore, but the storm has ceased to exist and pedestrians have come out from the comforts of their home to walk the streets.

_Plan ‘Get the two idiots to realize that they are head over heels for each other’ is-a-go._

Whipping out his phone, his mouth drags into a lazy smirk as he mimics a phone call between him and his mother, diverting Eita’s attention away from the pretty boy in front of him. As Hayato gives a half-hearted excuse on why he absolutely _has_ to leave right at that time, he shrugs his padded coat on and charges out the door, not forgetting to wave goodbye and flash a smile towards the café for old time’s sake. As he walks briskly under the gray night sky with his boots kicking up the snow under his feet, he sincerely wishes that his friend can find romance soon, or he will die an old man surrounded by more old men.

Old men including him and the rest of their friends.

Letting out a puff of warm air, he silently prays that Eita can find happiness soon.

\---

Hayato bursts through the door for work one afternoon to find Eita already in his usual spot, taking down orders for his famous lattes and Satori slouching by the display of buns and sandwiches, ignoring the growing line of café-goers who stare rather rudely at him. There is a wide smile on the redhead’s face and he is clad in another one of his thin pullovers, but his presence only serves to irritate the chief barista even further.

“Satori, don’t you have school to go to?” Eita whispers loudly to him, all while frantically trying to keep up with the long list of orders on the notepad situated next to him. On a weekday like this, Hayato finds it unbelievably suffocating in the café. Ruffling his red-haired friend’s hair on the way to the staff room, he quickly adjusts his apron in place and shoots Eita a sympathetic look before going over the orders one time and getting to work.

“Class doesn’t start until 10, my dearest Eita. I bought something this time, didn’t I?” Satori holds up his White Eagle paper cup, taking a few healthy sips from the hot chocolate swirling around inside. “Anyway, I did come here to tell you something.”

“What is it? Make it quick and _leave_.” Eita clenches his jaw in protest at his best friend’s obstinance. As he listens to the traumatic whirring of the brewing machine conform to his whims, Hayato’s hands duck under Eita’s frame to retrieve two ham sandwiches. Together with their orders of espressos, he serves it up to the collection counter to the loving couple wrapped up in their scarves and coats and smiles brightly at them.

“A certain someone here told me that you have your eye set on one of our customers. Do tell me the desires of your heart, best friend.” Satori turns to face Eita with his hand under his head and a sardonic grin plastered from one end of his cheek to the other.

“What do you mean, ‘our’? You don’t even work here.” However, this causes the barista to turn a dull shade of red and he frowns even deeper, hands still working at his usual rush hour speed. “I’m not interested in a relationship right now, anyway.”

“That’s what you think, but I’m dating ‘Toshi. That makes me the unofficial boss of you.” Despite the glares that is sent his way, Satori lets out a string of laughter akin to that of an old man sniggering. The color painted on his cheeks matches that of Eita’s, which Hayato can’t help but chuckle at too.

“The two of you are disgusting, honestly. Can’t even go one day without being reminded of the _loving_ relationship you two have.” At the rolling of Eita’s eyes, Satori sends a provocative tongue and a peace sign his way, bouncing out of the café with a cartoonish spring in his step. Honestly, Hayato can never get enough of him, what with his upbeat attitude and dark humor that only a select few of their friends can understand.

He was the poster comedian of their group, and he wished fervently that it stay that way.

Over the intense scent of coffee, perfume suddenly worms its way up Hayato’s nose, and he gags on it in the midst of pouring coffee beans into the machine. He turns towards the line of people and sees a young woman, no older than the two of them working the counter, but her red-caked lips are upturned in a devilish manner. His shoulders tense and expects the worst to come, and to nobody’s surprise, it throws itself at them, knocking the breath out of their lungs.

“Who is that guy, anyway? He came in here, shouting as if he owned the place, and he even looks like a _monster_...” Hayato’s eyes widen and he steps away from the dysfunctioning brewing machine, a mere stone’s throw distance away from Eita at the counter, but it all happens too fast for him to register everything.

As quick as lightning, a hand shoots out to tighten its grasp on the woman’s collar, which makes her gasp in surprise and the sheer force of it sends her reeling back, too shocked to truly offer a quick and insincere apology.

“Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, then? You strut in here like a fucking model and say these words to my own fucking face? Do you have _any_ idea who he is? He is my _goddamn_ best friend, so you don’t get to come in here and form an incredibly biased opinion of his _physical fucking appearance_.”

“Eita--” By this point, the swearing has Hayato wincing and the woman’s face has turned white from astonishment.

“No, Hayato, I need to teach her a lesson! She doesn’t get to call him _that,_ out of all things--!” The pure rage and indignation is made very clear by the anger lines on Eita’s face and his clenched fists ready to land blows, regardless of the customer’s gender, and Hayato _knows_ . He knows he should stand up for Satori as well, but the whole awkwardness of the situation has customers frozen in their seats and even new patrons who have just entered the store are reversing their footsteps. But Eita’s anger is a wild, untamed thing in its own regard, and if it spirals out of control, he might have to call an _ambulance_.

_What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?_

While Hayato is stuck with his own swimming thoughts, Eita’s fist advances towards its target, but before anyone can get hurt, a firm palm wraps around the calluses and veins in his hand, halting any kind of further movement. The resident barista growls frustratingly, his hand struggling against its cage, but the serious face in front of him is enough to quell his fury.

“Shirabu? Oh thank god, I had no idea what to d--”

“Semi-san. You’re causing a ruckus in the café and scaring away your customers. Would you mind lowering your volume?” The level-headed voice of Kenjirou breaks the deathly silence bathing in White Eagle and he runs his free fingers over Eita’s tense knuckles, soothing him to obedience and forcing him to calm down. Hayato lets go of his held breath and reaches for the cup of coffee underneath the machine, offering it to its owner with an apologetic smile.   

Eita wriggles his hand out of Kenjirou’s grip, red dusting his cheeks and his eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Then, as the two of them lock eyes, he is the first one to break their gaze and he marches towards the staff room, imaginary steam pouring out of his ears.

As soon as the resounding slam of the door reverberates throughout the café, peals of conversation resume between patrons and the clink of plates and cups are once again a constant in White Eagle. Thankfully, their customers are of the understanding sort, so he mutters a quick apology and bows to the crowd of people who smile back at him understandingly. He gestures for Kenjirou to check up on Eita in the staff room and sets to work cranking out the last of the orders, before slamming down a sign labelled ‘Baristas on Break’ and charging towards the respite of the air-conditioned staff room.

The feeling of disbelief is apparent as he is met with bickering between a strange duo of people, a coffee-stained apron-clad barista whose hair is all over the place and a coat-wearing student who appears to be more agitated that the riled-up ash blonde.

“What do you think that you could have done in that situation, Semi-san? Punch her? You’re just being ridiculous.”

“You’re the one being ridiculous! She called my best friend a _monster_.” Eita snaps at Kenjirou, whose posture is rigid and his eyes are boring a hole into the older man’s forehead. At this, the brunette rolls his eyes and folds his arms across his chest, as if to get some kind of message across. Hayato watches the pair argue back and forth with feigned disinterest, but this is the first time he’s seen Eita get so worked up just because of one person. He leans against the door frame and takes note of the red in their cheeks and the fact that with every word, the distance between them grows smaller and smaller.

_This is advancing faster than I thought it would._

“Do you think _that_ matters to him? Look where he is now. Stop being immature and acting out at every little thing.”

“Immature--! You’ve barely been here for two weeks and now you want to go against me? I don’t need this kind of attitude from you, _brat_.” With the heavy term now settling between the two of them in the air, Kenjirou purses his lips together to conceal the hurt that he feels, but the tiny slivers of tears by his eyes shine under the single lamp inside the room. As emotional as he might be, showing weakness to a person he’s only known for a short period of time is foolish, and so Kenjirou mutters an incoherent sentences of swears under his breath, turning around to glare daggers at a hastily retreating Hayato and slams the door behind him in a petty fashion.

At this dramatic show of emotions, Eita ignores the burning sensation in his chest and sneers at the door, a failed attempt to get back at the shorter of the two.

“...Care to explain what that was all about?” Hayato pipes up, while the taller of the two sits himself down into a nearby chair, almost breaking its legs off.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.” His eyes come to rest on the table’s flower arrangement and its intricacies, but they can’t help but wander to the door. Letting out an extended sigh, Eita gulps the remainder of his water.

“I already know everything there is to know, _Eita_. Why do you let yourself suffer like this?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Coordinated tapping of Eita’s finger on the mug’s surface produces relatively quiet sounds, but it does not quell the loud drumming of his heart in his ears. The first stage to suffering is always denial, Hayato reminds himself, as he leans forward to rest his elbows on the table and let loose a grin that is far too provocative for Eita’s liking.

“I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, but ever since you met Shirabu, you’ve turned into a pining, irritable knucklehead.” He pokes a knowing finger at his friend’s chest, in which it flips the chief barista’s heart upside down and forces it to do multiple cartwheels. Fantasies from listless daydreaming and midnight memories come flooding back, and Eita’s hands unconsciously start tapping against the mug more rapidly.

“...I--what?” He mumbles out, leaning his head against his hand and feeling his cheeks getting warmer at the notion of him and Kenjirou, being potentially romantically involved. _Those full lips that are caked with an indeterminable flavor of lip balm, the bangs on his forehead that look impossibly soft, the adorable pouts that he does…_

The less than decent thoughts that flow through Eita’s mind has him standing up suddenly, forgoing his empty mug and Hayato altogether. The chair behind him clatters noisily to the ground and the butterflies that course through the air in his stomach is too much to handle, and so he exits the room in the same way that Kenjirou did a few minutes prior.

A flimsy excuse such as ‘I have to go work’ swims in the air and Hayato smiles a grin as bright as the twinkling lights that brighten up the atmosphere of the café.

\---

The café has been empty for a few hours now, and even the constantly cheerful Hayato has made his leave. Eita’s eyes survey the surroundings over the payment counter lazily, as he shakes the beer bottle in his hand and tries to push the nagging afterthoughts in his mind away.

_Ever since you met Shirabu, you’ve turned into a pining, irritable knucklehead._

In his feverish stupor, he takes another large swig from the bottle and rests his head against the counter’s surface, his hair thoroughly ruffled and his eyes hazy. In the middle of White Eagle with all its lights turned off and the tables and chairs stacked up neatly in their respective corners, Eita feels utterly alone, his small presence a speck in the middle of the whole, wide world.

_Stop being immature and acting out at every little thing._

His mind paints a pretty picture of fond-looking eyes and flushed cheeks and in response, he lets out a long groan that adds to the humidity of the barren café. What kind of torture was this? He never considered himself to be someone who could long for anyone in particular and at an early age, he even promised himself that he wouldn’t get involved in a sticky mess of a relationship.

Eita’s heart feels heavy and his head even heavier. The alcohol seeping through his system does nothing to snap him out of his sweet, sweet reverie and he lets out a bitter laugh, which surprises even himself. Before Kenjirou had stood outside White Eagle, seeking shelter from the fearsome snowstorm, he had just been a simple, hardworking barista who was well-known for the quality latte art that made the café such a well-received place in his eyes.

Now, he couldn’t even make a caramel macchiato without thinking of the soft bowl cut that sat on top of the brunette’s head.

The bell by the café’s entrance gives a small chime and he groans once again, eyes staring at the cheap brand of beer trapped in his hand. What time was it, even? He had bid goodbye to Hayato after his shift was over and stayed by himself, not knowing how fast the time had passed. Eita forces himself to look at the door and catches sight of the same brown color that he had romanced about for so long.

Kenjirou’s eyes drift to the beer bottle in Eita’s outstretched hand and scoffs, snatching it out of the taller man’s hand and effectively sealing away any kind of entertainment for the night.

“...What are you doing here...brat.” There is a pounding in his head and his heart, but Eita bottles it up as he has always done and refuses to meet Kenjirou’s concern-brimming irises.

“I came to apologize, but seeing that you’re drunk, I guess I should come back tomorrow.” The younger of the two turns to leave, but something in Eita’s mind clicks in place and he rushes after Kenjirou recklessly, catching his wrist and stopping him in his tracks entirely.

“...Don’t leave...stay, Kenjirou…” The barista’s legs feel like jelly and for support, he rests his head against the now very flustered brunette’s arm. Rays of the moon’s reflected light casts shadows over the café and Eita and Kenjirou’s shadows spill over into each other, creating a lump of black that drapes over the counter.

“You’re ridiculous. What kind of pathetic state are you in that you have to resort to alcohol?” The shorter of the two tries to peel the ash blonde’s arm off his wrist, but then a foreign nose is nuzzling against him and Kenjirou’s mind erupts into a series of overlapping thoughts. Options are weighed and he realizes that he is alone with Eita in a deserted café, with any sign of human life now gone from the street outside. A flowery-like red hue scatters across his face and Kenjirou’s heart threatens to fall out of his mouth, suggestive scenarios now playing themselves out voluntarily. He wants to force himself away from Eita, to avoid any kind of awkward situation the next morning, but the arm connecting him to the latter serves as an emotional anchor.

“Kenjirou...you smell really nice…” The barista’s hands have now traveled to wrap themselves around the shorter’s man waist and Kenjirou nearly lets out a yelp, but he clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle his less-than-monotone sounds.

“...You’re drunk, Eita…” He lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, as if to convince himself that this is all just one, exaggerated good dream, but then Eita turns him around and the lips that crash against his own taste of caramel and lemon. The height difference is made apparent between the two of them when Kenjirou feels a hand dipping him towards the ground to deepen the kiss. His knees ache in protest, but his eyes are clenched shut with relieved happiness and the shortness of breath in his lungs are worth so much. He feels the barista’s hands moving to cup at his ass and with rushed want lingering in the air, Kenjirou finds himself being lowered onto the counter, with the same pair of lips that he has been craving for so long drinking in his taste mixed in with his apple-flavored lip balm.

The bottle of alcohol in his hand is forgotten beside him as he wraps his legs around Eita’s big frame and his hands toy with the strands of the barista’s hair, his eyes now drunk with newfound bliss. Smooth lips are pampered with heavy, dirty kisses and the warm hands that he had admired afar tease at the hem of his shirt, which serves as cumbersome temptation for Kenjirou. Eita wastes no time into convincing the brunette that he is the sole object of his affections and bravely whispers sweet nothings in his ear, while waiting for the shorter of the two to catch his breath and bask in the barista’s loving gaze.

Under Eita, Kenjirou is messy-haired and ruddy-cheeked, with his lips now swollen from too much tender loving care and his saliva-streaked mouth wide open, as if begging for more way past its limit. Through the slowly dissipating alcoholic daze, the ash blonde feels his heart swelling with previously bottled up emotion and he cradles the brunette’s head in his hands, and matches himself at eye level with the shorter of the two. At this sudden show of affection, Kenjirou averts his line of sight away from the intense fire of the eyes in front of him, and finds his heart melting all over again.

“...I should have probably said this before I kissed you, but--”

“Save it for whatever sappy occasion you have in mind. You don’t need to proclaim it so bravely after you mustered up the courage to kiss me.” Kenjirou breathes out hurriedly, eager to hurry things along, and the fingers on his face run down the sides of his cheeks gently.

“Still the impatient sort, aren’t you, Kenjirou?” But Eita complies anyway, and he kisses the man in front of him with everything he has. At the softest of kisses offered to him, Kenjirou lets out a needy whimper, which goes faint against the barista’s sweet but sour mouth. “I’ll take care of you tonight.” 

\---

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To: 山形隼人

From: 天童 覚

Subject: !!!!

 

you won’t believe what just happened!!1!1!

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From: 山形隼人

To: 天童 覚

Subject: Re: !!!!

 

What?

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To: 山形隼人

From: 天童 覚

Subject: SCANDALOUS!!

 

jus saw eita + kenjirou-kun makin out in w.e ⊂(￣▽￣)⊃

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From: 山形隼人  
To: 天童 覚  
Subject: ASKNFKEKM

 

HOly shIT pics or it didn’t happen.

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To: 山形隼人

From: 天童 覚

Subject: KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

 

[Attached image: semishira.jpg]

 

well, i _guess_ its safe to say u dont need to be a wingman anm, hayatoot

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From: 山形隼人  
To: 天童 覚

Subject: Re: KISS KISS FALL IN LOVE

 

Aw man, was hoping to get those two together. They did it themselves anw..

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To: 山形隼人

From: 天童 覚

Subject: satori’s a little bitch ass.

 

hayato, this is eita, and i’m here to tell you that he has been found dead outside white eagle. don’t bother to come; i’ll return his corpse tmr.

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From: 山形隼人  
To: 天童 覚

Subject: Re: satori’s a little bitch ass.

 

Have fun with Shirabu! I’m going to sleep~

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To: 山形隼人

From: 瀬見英太

Subject: -_-

 

...he told you everything, didn’t he?

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From: 山形隼人

To: 瀬見英太

Subject: tomorrow

 

I want the full details tomorrow. Leave one thing out and you buy me donburi ;)

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To: 山形隼人

From: 瀬見英太

Subject: Re: tomorrow

 

w/e.

 

…

 

(why are my friends so creepily involved in my love life)

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**Author's Note:**

> [For the text messages]  
> 山形隼人 - Hayato  
> 天童 覚 - Satori  
> 瀬見英太 - Eita 
> 
> This took me way longer than anticipated (￣ ￣|||)


End file.
